Eight Boys and a Walker girl

49 | Brothers

49 | Brothers

He's cut his hair since I saw him last.

Last time we met here, locks of his dark, wavy hair still fell over his forehead, and he had to keep pushing it out of his eyes. I teased him, telling him he looked like a hippie. Maybe it was my laughing remark, or maybe he just felt like a change- either way, his hair is now cut short, the new cut revealed by his hood not being up for once.

It makes his face look startlingly exposed. His eyes stand out more, the bright green colour on pale skin.

I'm not sure what to make of it.

He smiles at me as he crosses the mud-stone-sand of the makeshift riverside beach, taking care not to slip on the wet shingles. He seats himself beside me on the barrel I'm huddled ontop of, and immediately his hand finds mine. I feel the same shooting sparks of electricity in my palm as I always do- at least that much hasn't changed.

"You've cut your hair," is all I can think of to say, and it comes out sounding really lame. His smile goes from warm to slightly nervous, and he reaches up, as if to run his fingers through it, before remembering he can't.

"Yeah. Felt like it was maybe time to change things up a bit."

I try to match his smile, but he senses my wariness.

"You don't like it?"

"No it- it looks great." I manage something that looks somewhat like a happy smile on my face. "It's just- different, that's all. I'll get used to it. You look great."

He winks at me. "I always look great."

I laugh, and squeeze his hand. He pulls me to my feet, steadying me on the wet beach surface. "Come on. I want to take you somewhere."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? Where?"

"It's a surprise, Walker. Hold your horses."

I laugh. "I'm half expecting to be blindfolded now."

"No need to go that extreme," he grins, "Just follow me and don't keep on asking where we are."

I don't need to. Our destination becomes clear to me about five minutes into the walk, as I begin recognising the hushed houses and gentle trees of private residential streets around us, and I feel like I'm going to cry. Julian notices my face, and quickly wraps an arm around me.

"You know now?"

I nod, leaning against him. "I thought I'd never see it again."

Before us is a low wooden fence, tall trees clumped behind it. He clambers over the stile first, before reaching to help me. Leaves crunch underfoot as we make a path through the thicket of oak- and then before me is the warm, inviting cabin that grew to be almost like my second home while the McCartney boys were staying with us. The wooden walls almost seem to glow. The McCartney cabin, the one they drove me to after that first fateful party, the one where Julian and his brothers threw their sister's ashes into the sea a few minutes away.

Inside, it seems like nothing has changed. There's no fire in the fireplace, but there are thick wool blankets, and me and Julian snuggle underneath one in one of the armchairs, me huddled in his lap, my head on his chest. For a moment, I just feel so happy, sipping at a supersized bottle of pepsi left over from a previous visit.

Then Julian speaks. "You really thought you'd never come here again?"

I shrug. "I mean, after you left...who would I have gone with?"

He shifts a little, so I roll a little off of his knees, so he can face me better. "WE left your house. That didn't mean we'd never see you again. We were always going to see eachother again, Evvie."